


Close Enough

by SnazzyCookies



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Bro - Freeform, Beta Dave, Incest, M/M, Stridercest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnazzyCookies/pseuds/SnazzyCookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From <a href="http://homesmut.livejournal.com/14212.html?thread=27205764#t27205764">this prompt</a> on the kink meme</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Enough

You’re lying in your bed, blankly staring up at the cold, gray ceiling of your Veil meteor bedroom, when John Egbert bursts in through your bedroom door.

“Dave! Dave, Rose says we’re almost there! Like, in a couple days, we’re gonna meet my nanna, and Jade’s grandpa, and you and Rose and Rose’s mom and my Dad and everybody in the universe we made when I scratched the beat mesa!”

You don’t move your body, but you raise one hand to give him a lazy thumbs-up. He snorts.

“Pfft, don’t you care about seeing your Bro again?”

You freeze. Not that you were moving; but for a very short moment, you stop breathing, your lungs refusing to inhale. You don’t reply.

“Whatever, the rest of us are excited, anyway,” John says, clearly disappointed at your reaction, and you feel slightly guilty at being a wet blanket on his mood. But you know that Jade will cheer him up, and in a moment you hear their excited screaming from down the hall, and everything is alright.

Except that it isn’t. 

Rose has had a team of people in contact with the kids in the new universe for quite a while; a few weeks, now. Nearly everyone has taken the time to chat with the new players, on timelines similar to the ones the trolls had used when they spoke to you. Though the situation of being on the other end of things like this is interesting, you’ve kept yourself withdrawn and acted completely detached from the situation.

Especially after a few days later when you learn that no, you won’t be meeting John’s dad again, or another Rose, or another you, for that matter, because the guardians have all died in the game, just like the first time. John cried for a while, mourning the loss of his father a second time. Rose seemed only slightly relieved at the news that there wouldn’t be a second, adult her for her to talk to. You felt similarly about not meeting another adult Dave. You’ve met enough of yourself in your lifetime, really.

But Bro…

You roll over in your bed and cease to think about it. It’s not him, and he won’t be who you need to see again, and you can never tell anyone, ever, about why.

Of course, the meteor arrives on schedule. You pick up the new players and you join all your teammates, trolls and humans, in gathering in the main computer room to meet them.

There is noise and chatter and nonstop talking all around you. There are, after all,  _four_  relations of John Egbert in the room now, and they all seem to share the same qualities: buck teeth, jet-black hair, and the ability to Never. Stop. Talking. 

But despite that consistent buzzing in your ear, it all fades into the background the moment you lay eyes on him, and he turns his head to look directly at you, and your heart leaps into your throat. Your brother.

He's only sixteen now, but that changes nothing. He still wears his stupid pointed anime shades and his hair is cut the exact same way. His hat is on his shirt now instead of on his head, but you think that just makes him look cooler, somehow. He still stands the same way, hooks his thumbs in his pockets the same way, wears the same stupid fingerless gloves that he thinks are so cool and so do you but you'll never tell him. Your heart races as he turns his head, ever so slightly to stare at you, and you do not cease from staring back. 

It's him. It's him in every way, except that it isn't. The last time you saw him he was dead, run through with his own sword, his puddle of blood drying and brown around the edges, long turned cold. And you could tell no one. No one, not even Terezi, of the things you felt, of the turmoil of emotions that raged inside of you at the sight of the person you'd loved most intimately in the entire universe dead at your feet.

You stare at him, and you wonder. You wonder the one burning question that shouldn't matter at all, because he isn't him, he isn't  _your_  Bro...but it does. It becomes the  _only_  question that matters. Did he love his brother the same way you loved yours? Does he feel what you do when he looks at you, is the empty pain you feel at the loss of each other's bro's the same, is the depth of it the same; is the hole in his life as meaningful to him as it is for you?

Ignoring all the others surrounding you, both of you flashstep halfway to each other, and before you know what you're even doing, before your senses can stop you, you're lifting your palm to rest on the side of his face, your thumb gently stroking along his pale cheek as you stare into his eyes, now perfectly visible through his shades this close.

He does not pull away. He doesn't say "what the fuck are you doing?" He doesn't make a strange expression, he doesn't flinch, he doesn't raise an eyebrow, he doesn't twitch a single muscle.

You hear his breath increase so subtly that you're not even sure he's aware of it. And you know. Yes. Yes, he loved his brother the same way you loved yours. Your losses are equal. 

"Why don't I show you my room," you say, never taking your gaze off of his face, his eyes. They are  _his_  eyes; different yet exactly the same; the same life in them but just not as much experience behind them. This Bro hasn't raised you, and you know he feels the same pain when he looks at you...you are both facing the same loss, the same emotions in this moment, and that only attracts you to him more.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he says, and it's  _his_  voice, if not fifteen years younger but it's still his deep baritone, and you trace your fingers subconsciously down his bare neck, tickling his skin, and he is  _still_  better at keeping his poker face than you are, fucking bastard.

"I will show you mine all fucking night, until the Egbert Foursome has talked themselves into a peaceful sleep and Roxy Lalonde has sobered herself up enough to legally drive a fucking kindergarten schoolbus," you reply.

He nods once, barely perceptibly, but absolutely without hesitation. You turn your back on him and lead him through the halls of the Veil. You know he has to be at least a little curious at all the troll paraphernalia littering the halls, strange piles of weird objects that you've grown accustomed to over the last three years, but you both ignore all of it. You can feel his gaze on your back, your neck, your ass, as you know he’s checking you out, trying to find the differences, trying to see the sameness, just like you are.

You enter your room, turn around, and watch him as he walks in. He casually shoves the bottom of the door shut with his foot, causing it to swing closed with a soft click.

You stare at each other for the longest two seconds of your life.

He takes the one step forward to be closer to you, and now he's got his gloved palm on your cheek, his thumb doing more than just stroking your skin, but running down and over your lips, which you purse. He presses it into your lips, and you let the tiniest tip of your tongue escape to lick him.

In a flash both of his hands are on the sides of your face and his mouth is crushing into yours, and holy shit, he tastes like Bro. You moan up into him and wrap your arms around his back, pulling his body to you; his warm, alive, pulsing body that molds perfectly to yours; he is no longer a foot taller than you but only an inch; he is no longer fifteen years more experienced than you; he is no longer your older brother but your equal and you can feel in his movements every one of those same emotions from him.

He lowers his lips to your jaw and begins to kiss. You raise your chin and let him in, and his lips are giving you soft, sucking nips as they travel down your neck. When he reaches your collar bone you groan heavily, and he smirks.

"You were always such a whore for me," he says softly, and his voice, his hot breath on your skin, the correctness of his statement make you melt and weak in the knees.

Embarrassingly, you groan. It’s been so long; so long since you’ve seen him, so long since he’s held you. Your eyes get a little watery, but you ignore that, and he nips at the soft skin at the base of your neck, and your hands are reaching up and pulling both of your shades off. He does nothing to stop you.

Before you know it you're cupping his face in your hands and yanking him up to stare into his eyes, bare eyes to bare eyes, and they are a little more orange than your Bro's, and you like that. Finally, a true, real indication that he is  _not_ the same person, nor will he ever be, and then your lips are crushing down onto his and his fingers are wrapped up and tangled in your hair behind your head.

He groans and grinds his hips into you, now at the proper height for you to really feel his hardening erection, and it surprises you that he wants you this bad already. You groan and buck back into him. He grabs your ass with his palms and pushes you into him, desperate, needy, not the way your Bro ever would have shown but right now you don't fucking care. 

"I guess we're sick fucks in every universe," he whispers softly as his head falls to rest on your neck, his body pulling you towards the bed you have called yours for the past three years. You're pulling his shirt over his head and then your own shirt is torn off and you feel his hot, naked chiseled chest pushing into you as the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Like there’s a universe that exists where you could resist me,” you whisper softly into his ear, and he  _whines_. The sound catches you off guard for a moment; your Bro  _never_  made a noise like that, and it sets your heart racing even as a dull ache in the back of it seems to wake up for a moment.

Your thoughts are scattered and your brain stops thinking when his delicious still-gloved fingers grip the top of his jeans and begin to pull down the zipper. Holy shit, he’s so desperate he’s shaking; orange boxers are revealed and then disappear from your vision as he pulls it all off in one smooth, graceful motion, boxers, pants, shoes and socks; and he’s definitely the same skilled, cool ninja you’ve always known.

His dick isn’t as big as you remember it but you don’t fucking care. You scramble to yank down your own fly and pull your pants off as he pulls you into your bed with him; the bed on which you cried for your dead brother so many times, fell asleep alone, masturbated alone, cursed the world alone. 

He looks up at you with those eyes and you know you’re falling in love. He’s not your first Bro, but he’s still your Bro and you can see on his face that he feels the same way. You can still read his face, though its expression is hidden behind his mask of solid passivity, and he is, in that moment, everything you need.

You kick off the last bit of your clothes and your eyes are fixed on his body as he leans back, lying on your bed with expectant eyes, and your nerves get a little jittery as you realize that he wants you on top. You swallow a lump in your throat and crawl until you’re on your knees above him. You lean forward and trace your hands over his skin; over his sides, his muscled chest, his flat stomach, his thighs; touching him, feeling him, getting lost in his  _realness_.

You lean down and kiss him, hot and fast and deep, and he groans up into your mouth and lifts his hips to grind your erections together and you melt, your body covering his and he surrenders to you, letting you crush him beneath you. He grabs your ass and pulls you roughly down onto him, and you moan and grind your hips against him, synchronized in your rhythms, both of you moving to the beat that is perfect and steady and Strider, regardless of universes or timelines or any other paradox bullshit.

In one swift motion he sits up and rises to his knees to match your height. He lowers his lips to your neck and sucks, marking you, leaving a hickey.

"Yes..." you groan as his fingers dance over your chest, teasing your nipples over and over, your fingers tangling up into his hair as your dick rubs gently against his, making the heat between your legs somehow grow a little more.

He traces his tongue slowly down your neck and over your chest, and your back arches when his hot breath washes over your stomach. You whimper as he ghosts his lips so lightly over your skin that you can barely feel it.

"Quit fucking teasing me..."

You see a mischievous smile spring to his face, and it throws you, because your Bro hardly ever let any expression come to his face, not even during sex. But  _this_  Bro does; he smiles, and then his hands are on your ass, roughly holding you close to him as he brushes his lips  _just_  too far away from your swollen dick. 

His breath is boiling hot over your skin as you can feel the moisture but not the touch of his lips. You groan and twitch but his hands hold you still- because you're letting him. This Bro isn't any stronger than you are. If the two of you had a sparring match, you are fairly certain it would be an even, fair fight. But you are not interested in that.

He opens his lips and kisses the tip of your dick. You whimper and lift your hips to buck up into his warm heat. He parts his lips and lets you in, pressing hard and hot over your swollen skin, tracing his tongue around the base of the head, sucking you into his mouth.

You'd groan if you could pause in your panting, but you can't. Your fingers are pulling roughly on his hair now, pushing his head down onto you, and he takes it, every millimeter, until his lips are pressed against your pelvis and you feel the heat and softness of the back of his throat.

"You always did love to suck my cock," you say through heavy breaths, and he responds by closing his jaw just the slightest bit, letting all of his teeth gently press against your dick on every side. You whine and whimper, and then he's pulling back up, sucking with his lips so hard that his cheeks are indented.

When he reaches your tip he licks it several times with his tongue, teasing the slit, his drool running down your shaft to drip onto the sheets. You groan and stroke the back of his head with your fingers, and then he begins to bob.

He starts slowly, taking only the head in at first, sucking it into his mouth and then pulling slowly back out. You groan each time he does it, each time going slightly farther down than before, until he's taking all of you deep into his throat and then sucking with his tight lips all the way to the head on the way up.

You feel the pleasure building slowly and steadily; he always knew exactly how slow to go to drive you batshit insane, and he does it like he's known you all his life, which he has. You groan much more loudly than you intended as you grip his hair in your fists, your chin falling to hit your chest.

"Fuuuuuuck..." you say, the word soft and barely audible in your ears, and you lose your self-control and thrust forward, burying yourself deep into his hot mouth. He takes it easily, and you blush because you’re sure he’s used to a bigger dick than yours, but he certainly doesn’t seem disappointed when he presses his tongue up along your length. He slides back and you thrust forward, and then you’re fucking his mouth, his lips eager, his hands pushing against your ass, pulling you close to him.

He moans. Not just once, but over and over, the sound of his voice getting cut off each time you thrust deep into his throat, his nostrils flared as he pants, trying to get enough air, and he’s damn sexy in an entirely new and different way. You can see on his face, in his body language, in his desperation, that  _this_  Bro wants to be under you, he’s desperate to be under you, and you wonder briefly just what kind of Dave he’d had. Then you feel it, that deep heat starting to rise as your balls contract, and he gives you one last suck and pulls away,  _just_  too soon, and you realize that he still knows your tells better than you do.

You gaze down at him, panting, sweating, his carefully styled hair a disaster. He looks up at you and licks his lips, and your brain checks out as your throbbing cock takes over delegating the things that you do. Your hands are on his shoulders and you push him to the bed, smashing your mouth on top of his in desperate, sloppy kisses. You fingers grace down his neck, over his chest and you pinch his nipples between your fingers as you move to straddle him. 

He whines and arches his back as you tease his little pink nubs and rest your throbbing cock on top of his. He’s more than eager and you find yourself letting out a little laugh, the way your Bro would have done- and you realize that there is probably more of him in you than there is in the person beneath you. The realization is both sweet and painful at the same time, and you ease the ache by tracing your fingers over the body underneath you. 

You lean down to suck on his neck and his arms wrap tightly around your back, holding you close to him. When you slide your tongue lower to trace over his collar bone he lets go, instead rubbing his palms over your sides, tickling you, making your skin tingle. You keep your fingers teasing his nipples as you trace over his chest and stomach with your tongue, and he writhes and bucks and  _whines_ , that sound utterly foreign in your memories of your Bro, and it’s making your blood rush and you lose your patience. You move your entire body down to his pelvis and lick his cock from tip to base, making him shudder, his neediness turning you on in ways you’ve never exactly felt before.

You lick his cock over and over, pressing it down into his pelvis with your tongue, holding it steady with one thumb on its head. He  _writhes_  under you, and tries to buck his hips, and suddenly, you feel a rush of power and it goes straight to your head as you realize that you’re the one running this show.

You slide your tongue down between his ass cheeks and he eagerly spreads his legs for you. You feel the softness of his ass on your face and the heat between his cheeks as you glide your tongue over the sensitive ring of flesh as he whines and groans. Without hesitation he lifts his hips for you, and your heart pounds in your chest as you dig your fingers into the sides of his hips, pulling him close.

You lick your tongue slowly over his hole, at first teasing him with just the tip and then pushing your face in until the broad top of your tongue is pressing heavily over him, your drool dripping down his crack and onto the sheets. He groans helplessly, embarrassing words like "please" and "more" whispering from his lips, and your cheeks flush and you laugh softly into his skin, and he moans. The sound of his voice,  _Bro's_  voice, tears at your heart and your chest and your belly and your balls. Your tongue teases him in hot, slow circles, and a groan that is nearly a scream escapes his throat.

"Bro, fuck me already, come on..."

Your blood freezes for a moment when he calls you that.  _Bro_. That’s not your name. That’s  _his_  name. And it dawns on you slowly that no, it isn’t. You know his name, of course; but you’ve never called him by it. In his role as parent you’d always just called him Bro- and you realize that he must have done the same for you, or rather for another Dave, an older Dave that raised him to be this needy, writhing puddle of helplessness under the power of your tongue.

You realize that though you’ve both lost your Bros, the situation is  _not_  the same. You lost yours three years ago, and though you miss him, the pain has dulled a little for you. But he has  _just_  lost his, he’s just entered this cruel game and for him the pain is fresh and new. He needs you much, much more than you need him, and all of a sudden you realize that  _you_  are now the older one; the more experienced one, the one who knows way more shit than he does and the one who’s standing much more firmly on his emotional feet.

He's smiling when you sit up, something your Bro never would have done, and it jars you completely. You don’t want to upset him and you surprise yourself with the perfectly deadpan pokerface that you display. He’s just a kid. He’s more of a kid than you are even though you’re the same age, and he needs you, and you love him. You feel your love for him change; it’s not the same as your love for your older Bro at all. You suddenly feel more protective. Like you want to take care of him. Do things for him.

"You're still a sucker for rimming," you say, your voice soft and threatening to crack.

"I'm still a sucker for you," he says, catching himself too late, the confession out of his mouth before he realizes what he’s said, and you smile softly. You see the flicker of surprise on his face and realize that  _his_  Dave probably would never have made such an expression. You crawl up so that you’re hovering over him, and you brush a strand of his hair away from his sweaty forehead gently with your fingers. You look down into his too-orange eyes.

“It’s not gonna be the same,” you say. 

“I know,” he says, and you can hear the pain in his voice, then. It’s fresh and young and sharper than yours, and you lean down to kiss him, if only to ease it for him, just a little.

“I still love you,” you say, and you can see his eyes shifting as he tries not to let them water.

“He never would have said that.”

You nod.

“He felt it,” you reply, and before he can think about that you’re leaning over the edge of your bed and digging around for that bottle of lube you used to use back when you and Karkat were a thing.

You sit up between his legs again, and he stares at you, watching you with intensity. You force the lube out onto your fingers, the smell sending rushes of heat and anticipation through your blood. His eyes don’t leave your face as you slide your fingers into the heat between his ass cheeks, and he opens his legs eagerly for you as you tease his opening with your fingertips.

You slide the first one in and he whines, that sound becoming one of your favorite things to hear. You are going to make that come out of him as many times as you can; yes, fuck the way he squeezes his eyes shut and shudders is so damn sexy you see exactly why his Dave would have wanted him. You tease him, sliding your finger in and out of him too slowly, pushing all the way in up to your knuckles before sliding out again. You do that for a while, gently stroking his prostate, teasingly too slow and gentle, and he pants helplessly underneath you.

“Fuuuuuck…” he groans. “Bro, dammit, why are you such always such a fucking tease…”

You hear yourself laughing softly, exactly the way your Bro would have done. You are now in his shoes, and it makes you feel warm and whole. You miss him, but you  _are_  him, and he’s under you, but he’s not.

“Not my fault you’re such a sexy little fucker,” you say. “You should see yourself from my point of view, all panting and sweaty like a desperate little schoolgirl. You’d think this was your first fucking time.”

“Fuck you,” he says, and it’s his voice, it’s your Bro’s voice, and it makes your heart feel warm and whole and hurt all at once. 

“I’m working on it,” you reply, and you slide in a second finger, keeping the same teasingly slow pace, pushing too gently against his walls, stroking is prostate too slowly, making him writhe and  _whine_ , there it is again, that sound that you will never get enough of.

“Fuck, Dirk,” you say. The name sounds incredibly strange on your lips. It would be the same as John calling his dad by his first name; it’s weird beyond weird, but you can see that it’s completely normal for him to hear you call him that. 

“Bro damn it stop being such a fucking tease why are you always such a bastard…” he complains, and you realize that maybe you want him to call you Dave, but not now; not this time.

You slide in a third finger and he keens, raising his hips to buck against you and you hold him down with your free palm on his stomach.

“I’m driving the Strider party bus today,” you say. You rise up onto your knees and pull your fingers out. You add more lube to the gooey mess on your hand and grab your dick, and it doesn’t take you long at all to pump it back to full hardness with the sight before your eyes; panting, desperate, sweaty Bro underneath you, his eyes focused on your face so that when you lick your lips, he groans softly.

He spreads his legs for you, but you take his calf in your clean hand and lift it up to rest on your shoulder, and he lifts his other one himself. With his ass completely exposed to you now, you slide forward, your mind momentarily distracted by concentrating on what you’re doing, your thumb guiding your dick into his ass. You push in slowly, wincing a little as you force yourself through that tight barrier, though you can see how many times he’s done this because he doesn’t fight you. He eagerly lets you in. Then you feel his heat.

Holy fuck, you’d forgotten how good this fucking feels. You lose your self-control and push yourself all the way in as he cries out and you shut your eyes, his tightness and heat surrounding your hard dick and fuck, fuck, you’re thrusting into him, going a little deeper each time as you ease him open. He’s whimpering and yelping and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and he’s biting his bottom lip with his teeth, a thing you’ve never seen your Bro’s face do and fuck, fuck he’s so damn sexy fuck.

You thrust into him over and over, sliding into him becoming easier as he stretches to accommodate you and the lube spreads into a more even layer. You groan and he whimpers, your fingers digging into the sides of his hips, pulling him to you, keeping him close to you.

You lift his ass a little higher and he keens, crying out loudly as you push into him, his fingers clasping at the sheets as he stares right into your half-lidded eyes. His heat surrounds you, his tightness squeezes you on every side and all of your attention is on how good it feels; you hardly notice the burn in your arms and legs as your muscles drive you into him over and over, the little cries coming from his mouth making you want him even more. You slam into him harder and faster, sweat forming on your forehead that you don’t even notice because all of your attention is in your dick or on his face.

“Fuck, Bro, fuck!” he cries, pointing his chin to the ceiling as he squeezes his eyes shut, and you slide into him there, just so, and he screams and whimpers under you, and a fairly cocky smile comes to your lips as you are enjoying this on many levels beyond just the physical. You watch as he grabs his dick in between his own fingers and begins to frantically pump himself, his self-control as completely gone as yours.

The building lust in your dick suddenly has all of your attention, and you close your eyes, thrusting even faster, not having enough time to go all the way in or pull all the way out but you no longer care. The pleasure winds up tighter and tighter, making you shake, making you grunt as you shove yourself faster into that heat, that squeezing pressure. You feel it coil in your balls and this time there is nothing to stop you from going over the edge. 

With a cry you shove yourself into him as hard and deep as you can go, pulses of release pounding through your dick and balls. Pleasure drowns you in waves, overpowering and dominating your entire being; and you groan and become weak as the pulses fade to leave a deep, gratifying satisfaction in their wake.

Your orgasm fades to leave a steady tingling of pleasure throughout all of your body, and you open your eyes to see the sexiest vision of Bro...Dirk…frantically pumping his own dick, hard and purple and swollen, and you knock his hand away and he whines as you take over. You slide out of him as you work, but he hardly notices because his attention is elsewhere now, and you completely ignore the burning in your arm as you pump him hard and fast. You feel the twitch in the back of his knees that are still draped over your shoulders and then he stiffens and whimpers and his stomach contracts as he halfway sits up. His cum pulses out onto his chest, and you want to burn the sight of it into your memory because it is damn fucking sexy.

He collapses onto the bed, panting from exhaustion. You remain still for a moment, and he slowly opens his eyes to see you gazing down at him with a smile, and he slowly smiles back. You can hardly believe that two Striders are looking at each other with such unabashed, meaningful expressions like this, and you love it. You love him. He is not your Bro, but he’s still your brother; he’s still your lover and you can’t believe how good it feels.

You slowly help him slide his legs off of your shoulders, and you grab a towel off the floor to sloppily wipe yourselves off with. You crawl up to lay down beside him and plant a kiss or two on his forehead, and he curls into you, pushing his face into your chest, and you wrap your arms around him with the odd, protective feeling of being the older brother.

“Bro…damn…” he says, and you see that he needs to call you that, at least for now, so you can partially fill the emptiness inside of him that you have felt for the past three years. And you realize that you don’t mind. There is as much of your Bro in you as there is in him; you are both partially bits and pieces of each other, each half big bro and half little bro; one Brodave and the other Brodirk, and you are both still family, both unquestionably, undeniably Strider.

Your door swings open and you lift your head lazily to see who it is. You were expecting a troll, since knocking was a thing they’d never seemed to have gotten the hang of, but when you raise your eyes what you see is the gaping maw of a shocked John Egbert.

His mouth flaps open and closed a few times, but no sounds come out of it.

“Fuck, Egbert, usually when you walk in on somebody’s bare naked ass, you mumble an apology and blush like a little schoolgirl and fumble to turn around to get the fuck out,” you say.

“D….Dave, don’t you know who…who…!”

You sit up and pull the blankets up to your waist, and he sits up beside you, grateful for the cover. He’s not familiar with John the way you are. To him John’s the younger version of his best friend’s dead grandpa, and that’s gotta be weird for him.

“Yes, John, I know who he is. We just got very intimately acquainted with each other.”

His mouth somehow drops open wider.

“John, meet my brother Dirk. Dirk, my best bro, John.”

“Sup,” Dirk says, with one slight nod of his head. You see him glance over to the place on the floor where his shades have been tossed, and you know the feeling. But there’s nothing you can do about it now.

John is continuing to stare.

“Is there a reason you barged into my room without knocking other than to watch me getting it on with my bro?”

John manages to close his mouth. He licks his lips a few times and then attempts to speak.

“Rose wanted to start going over the next part of the plan, but no one knew where you guys were, so I went to find you.”

“Okay, cool. Message delivered, good job. Now unless you want to see more naked Strider ass, you can shut the door on your way out.”

He nods, his face flushed pink, and leaves, and you can’t hold in the snickers anymore. Bro…Dirk, laughs along with you, and holds up his fist for a bro bump. You give it to him and your heart feels a lot lighter. This is going to be a pretty sick relationship, because of one very glaring, important difference from your last one.

You don’t have to hide it anymore.

“Well, let’s get to this party before we miss all the other beautiful reactions we’re gonna get,” you say, and you move to get up, only to feel an arm wrap around your neck and pull you back into a deep, long kiss.

“Don’t you fucking leave me again,” he whispers, and you reach up to stroke his hair, and it feels the same, except it hasn’t been squished flat by a baseball cap.

“I won’t,” you say softly, even though you know that who he’s talking to isn’t really exactly you, but that doesn’t matter. “I’m fucking immortal, dude.” And it makes you feel proud to say it, feel proud to tell him of what you’ve achieved, even though you know he’s not really exactly your Bro. He is but he isn’t, but as you hold him close to you and he hugs you with a grip like a vice, you know that he feels the exact same way. You’re not the people that you’ve both lost, that you both miss; but you’re still brothers, and it’s close enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Fanart by [Synnesai](http://synnesai.tumblr.com/post/16240028472/more-or-less-inspired-from-this-fic-close-enough)
> 
> Fanart by [Renaris](http://renaris.tumblr.com/post/16210957754/from-close-enough-by-snazzycookies) \- [and another!](http://renaris.tumblr.com/post/16453212345/based-on-close-enough-by-snazzycookies-many-props)
> 
> Fanart by [Kilehye](http://kilehye.tumblr.com/post/16451641394)


End file.
